Chapter 70: Christopher's Question: The Road Less Taken

I handed Chris my napkin and he dabbed away the tears that gathered below his eyes.

“It’s a different world now, Chris.” And then I added, “Thank god.”

The chapel chimed the half-hour.

I stood and put my hand on Chris’ shoulder. “Looks like you’ve missed AA.” I nodded toward the door to Alumni hall. “Are you up for the other meeting? I’m pretty sure it’s not a step meeting. Nobody comes out. In fact, I think it’s just a ‘state of gay affairs at the University’ kind of thing. Gay people will come and speak. Interested straight people will come and speak. All very civilized, I promise.”

Chris considered and, with a shift, imperceptible to any casual observer, pulled back.

“I think I’ll pass.”

“I understand.” And I did. Forty years into a marriage they had signed up for, Chris and Amanda, for better or worse—on so many levels—had made choices.

“Do you miss it?” Chris asked.

“Miss what?”

“What do they call it? ‘The road not taken?”

“Do you mean women? Traditional marriage? Doing what I was told I should do?”

“Any. All. Do you miss it?”           

I smiled and took my last sip of cold coffee. “I’m a gay man, Chris. An aging, out, flawed, but happily married man. I have a husband who, despite giving him a million annoying reasons not to, loves me back. Warts and all. So, do I miss “normal?” If that means do I miss conforming, then no. For me, early on, despite playing the part, it was clear it would never work.” I paused. “And as for Amelia, I could never have made her happy. Or any woman, for that matter.”

“It isn’t fair, you know.” Chris lit another cigarette. “It wasn’t fair to her. To me, to our kids.”

“I think I’ll check out the meeting. Sure you won’t join me?”

“You dodged my question.”

“Was it a question?”

“It wasn’t’ fair. The marriage, the whole thing. Was it?”

I paused to consider what Chris was asking for. Agreement? Sympathy? Absolution? I shielded my eyes from the sun that peeked through the magnolias that lined the terrace.

“I gave up on ‘fair’ a long time ago. It’s such a judgy word. I’m much more interested in what’s authentic these days. ‘Fair’ depends so much on a bunch of other people who insist we behave in certain ways. ‘Authentic’ is up to me. Just me.”

Chris nodded, taking it in.

“As for ‘fair,’ I tell my patients to take that one up with their god.”

Chris smiled. “How much do I owe you, doc? For the session, I mean?”

I laughed. “This one’s on the house. Consider it the friends and family discount.”

I watched Chris walk away, turning briefly to wave. I waved back, and he turned down Emmet Street, walking against the growing morning traffic. Over the occasional beep of a car horn, the hatches and the cicadas began an unrehearsed duet, passing the melody back and forth, punctuating the sun as it broke over the northern face of the Rotunda.